


Visit to Vancouver

by servantofclio



Series: Sewers to Stars [17]
Category: Mass Effect, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 05:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Alliance custody in Vancouver, Shepard gets an unexpected visit from old friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visit to Vancouver

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot set in my crossover universe, in which I imagine that Shepard knew the TMNT while she was growing up on Earth.

As cells go, Shepard’s is a pretty nice one. Not properly a cell at all. Just officer’s quarters, here in the Alliance’s Vancouver facility, with a very good lock on the door. She gave herself up and promised to behave herself, so she gets nicer digs. No extranet connection, though, and no console. Messages in and out are all so carefully screened they might as well be hand-written and delivered on paper. Hell, they’re hardly even trusting her with a datapad. The ban on electronics means she’s been trying to amuse herself mostly with actual paperback books. 

It sucks. Not the books—they’re fine, though they have an unfortunate tendency to remind her of Kasumi and her collection. What sucks is the feeling of being cut off from the rest of the world. She can’t even get a news feed without official permission, and they’re not letting the press interview her. It’s just her and her guards and the Defense Commission and whatever other officers get to ask her questions this week. The same questions, mostly, or variations on the same, and she can’t tell if they’re even listening to what she has to say. 

Sometimes Shepard gets so bored with her carefully supervised visits to the gym and her limited collection of books that she just lies on the bed with her hands clasped behind her head, staring at the ceiling. 

That’s what she’s doing the night the lights go out. 

The lights going out is the most interesting thing that’s happened in weeks. 

Shepard waits, half-expecting a backup generator to kick on, but nothing happens. Without the hum of electronics, it’s astoundingly quiet in her quarters. She sighs just to make some kind of noise. Just for kicks, she gets up and tries the door. No luck. The electronic lock is sealed shut, or there’s a mechanical lock to back up the electronic one—it’s a little dark to tell. Shepard supposes it’s just as well; she can only imagine what kind of conniptions the brass would have if they found her wandering around outside her cell during a blackout. She hopes the lock defaults to open if the fire alarm goes off, though. 

She turns toward the window, considering. It’s not really a blackout, is it? She stares out the window a lot, imagining all those people are going about their everyday lives, blithely ignorant of the fact that there’s a fleet of sentient warships on its way to wipe out humanity. Tonight, rain patters gently against the glass, but she can see the lights of Vancouver outside, giving a little dim illumination to her room. It’s just a power outage in this building, then. The Alliance can’t even keep the power on? What the hell is that about? 

She hears a soft noise, something scraping. Above her head, in the air vents. 

Shepard stiffens at once. She drops low and darts away from the window, circling quietly around the room to take cover behind her bed. Scenarios swirl through her head. She doesn’t even have an omni-tool to defend herself with, though she’s all right at hand-to-hand. It could be Cerberus agents, maybe, or batarians. Then again, she wouldn’t entirely put it past Kasumi to sneak her way in, or even Thane, even though she’d told them not to. Better to stay quiet and hidden until she can tell whether she’s dealing with friend or foe. 

There’s another soft scrape, and a barely audible thud. Warily, Shepard peers over the edge of the bed, trying to gauge what she’s dealing with. Something moves, a dark shape that she only glimpses blotting out the distant city lights. A shape that’s oddly wide, moving aside as there’s another quiet thump. More than one of them, then. Shepard squints, making out the gleam of something metal. 

“Shepard? You in here?” 

The low voice is familiar. 

“ _Guys?_ ” She straightens out of her crouch, fairly sure she can make out at least three broad, dark shapes against the window. “What are you _doing_ here?” 

An orange light snaps on. Donnie beams at her over the glow of his omni-tool. 

“Lookin’ for you, of course,” Raph says at a fraction of his normal volume, crossing his arms. “What did you think?” 

She’d thought someone from her crew might come for her, but not this, not ever. “Guys—” Shepard says, only to be cut off when Mikey bounds forward for a hug. For a minute or two it’s all hugs, quick and fast and strong, and Shepard holds on with her eyes stinging. It’s been too long since anyone touched her in friendship, and too long since she’s seen her oldest friends. The last time was— in New York, she realizes, only a couple of weeks before she’d died. The thought shocks the wind right out of her. “How did you get here?” she whispers when she has her breath back. 

“Road trip, yo,” Mikey says with a grin. 

Shepard blinks at that. “You drove? All the way from New York?” Across the damn _continent_? 

“Yes,” they say, more or less in unison. “It’s been awesome!” Mikey adds. 

“That’s a matter of perspective,” Leo mutters. 

Mikey sniffs, looking injured. “My boring bros don’t appreciate my choice in tunes, Shepard.” 

“That, and it would be nice if someone had packed something other than junk food,” Donnie says. 

Shepard tries to picture the four of them trapped in the van for however long it takes to drive from New York City to Vancouver, and shudders, then shakes her head. “But this is a secure Alliance facility, you’re going to get caught—” 

“Psssh, not even,” Mikey says. 

“The security actually leaves something to be desired,” Donnie says smugly. 

Some rudimentary surge of Alliance pride turns Shepard’s voice flat. “What.” 

Donnie grins and takes a breath. 

“We don’t have time for that,” Raph says, shoving him. 

Leo says, “Agreed, this isn’t just a social visit, Shepard.” 

“We’re here to get you out,” Raph adds. 

Shepard gulps. Her spirits, buoyed up by the unexpected visit, flatten out under the sudden weight of duty. She’d had this conversation with her crew — more than once, in fact, with certain individuals. They’d understood, if reluctantly. It had never occurred to Shepard that she might need to have the same talk with these friends. “I can’t.” 

In the dim light provided by the omni-tool, their expressions are hard to make out, shadowed and heavy. She can tell that Mikey’s turned serious and Raph is glowering, after a disgusted grunt. “Come on, you know I can’t,” she says, and grimaces at how thin her voice sounds, like she’s reverted to seventeen again. “For one thing, I’d be a wanted fugitive, they’d be looking for me everywhere. It would be risky, too risky to stay with you guys.” 

Raph interrupts. “We can deal with that.” 

Shepard shakes her head. It’s not worth the risk. “But besides... this is my chance to get them to understand about the Reapers. I have to put in the time. I have to show that I’m trustworthy, that I’m willing to answer questions, that my story holds together.” She swallows. They _have_ to believe her. Her voice firms. “I’m... believe me, I’m beyond grateful you came, but I have to stay.” 

Leo nods. He doesn’t look surprised, Shepard thinks. “I’m sorry you wasted all this time,” she adds, because Raph is still scowling and Mikey looks downcast. 

“Not a waste, this outcome was not unanticipated,” Donnie says briskly, holding something out. “Go on, take it,” he says with a grin. 

Shepard takes it. It’s a small, mostly oblong thing that fits neatly in her hand. Some anonymous little device with a few buttons, and that’s about it. “Okay,” she says slowly. “What is it?” 

Donnie rocks on his toes, looking immensely pleased with himself. “It’s a communicator.” 

“ _What?_ ” Shepard darts a glance toward the door. “I can’t—” 

“Quantum-powered, it’s undetectable. Just keep it hidden.” 

“I—” She stares at the thing in her hand. “It’s a QEC? Where did you get the quantum particles?” 

“Cerberus. We raided one of their labs a few months ago,” Leo says. 

There is a lot Shepard would like to know about this whole situation, but she nods dumbly, conscious that they can’t possibly have much time and there are too many details. The one question that occurs to her is: “How did you get it so small?” 

Donnie’s eyes light up. “Aha! Well, you see—” 

Raph cuts him off. “We definitely don’t have time for Geek Hour.” 

Donnie shoots a narrow-eyed glare at him, but subsides. 

“Yes, we should be going,” Leo says. 

Shepard suppresses a sigh. “Right.” 

“But I’ve got the other end of the QEC,” Donnie says, “so you can talk to us any time.” 

There’s another swift round of hugs, as Shepard keeps muttering “thank you,” and the turtles disappear into the ceiling one by one. Leo, last to go, grips her shoulder and says, “Take care of yourself, Shepard,” with a look that tells her he understands. 

And then they’re gone, and Shepard stands alone in a dark room, her heart pounding. She’d almost think it was a dream except for the tiny box in her hand. 

Twelve minutes later, the lights come back on. When her guard opens the door to check on her a few minutes later, Shepard is lounging on her bed with a book, and merely waves at the guard without looking up. 

After an hour, she thumbs the device on. “Guys? Donnie?” 

There’s a moment of silence. Then, abruptly, she hears someone in the background saying, “It’s just that I’m _tired_ of the stupid jerky, Mikey!” A moment later, Donnie says, “Shepard! Hi!” 

His voice is crystal clear, though not loud. Shepard smiles foolishly into the empty air. “It works.” 

“Of course it works,” Donnie says. “You don’t think I’d give it to you without testing it out, right?” 

“No, of course not, I...” She takes a deep breath, and frowns as she hears a thump and the sounds of arguing. “Everything okay over there?” 

“Er, yes,” Donnie says. “There’s no problem here. Just a little disagreement about tonight’s menu.” 

Shepard bites her lip to keep from laughing. “I see.” 

“And your Alliance never knew we were there, I think you’ll find.” 

“I hope not,” Shepard says fervently. Her fingers tighten around the device — her most reliable link to the outside world, now. “Thank you,” she says. The words seem like not enough, too small and poor for the amount of effort involved. 

But Donnie just says, “Any time,” sounding warm and kind and normal, as if breaking into secure facilities and handing over one-of-a-kind technology is routine. Well. For them, it probably is. Shepard takes another careful breath. 

“So what’s new? And tell me about this tech I’m holding.” 

Donnie laughs and starts talking. Shepard listens, lying back against her pillow and eventually dimming the lights. Her eyes are drooping by the time she finally says, “I should get some sleep.” 

“Do that,” he says. Their end of the QEC has been passed around to all four by now, but it’s landed with Donnie again. “Take care of yourself, Shepard.” 

“You too,” she says. “Have a... uh, have a good trip.” 

It’s the simplest of things, and worth everything she has. She tucks the device carefully under her mattress before she goes to sleep. 

# 

_Four months later_

Shepard carries the little QEC on her person, always. It’s not hard to conceal in her uniform, and no one bothers to search her any more. She’s been a cooperative prisoner, and after all, there’s no way she could have obtained anything she shouldn’t have, is there? 

So it’s with her when the wall blows in, and while she races her way to the harbor, but she doesn’t have a spare moment to think about it until they’re on the way to Mars, and she’s read Vega the riot act, made sure the _Normandy_ can supply her with appropriate gear (why there is a set of armor for her here, she has no idea, and wonders just what Anderson was planning), and checked in with Joker. She manages to escape Ash for a few minutes and retreats, not to the retrofitted captain’s cabin, but to the battery. 

The retrofitting crew stripped out the barrier between the guns and the workspace, but the space still has the familiar reddish lighting, and the hum of the weapons systems is the same. There’s no real trace of Garrus’ presence, but the ambiance is familiar enough to settle her nerves. She takes a deep breath, and then another, trying to clear her head, wiping her sweaty palms on her thighs, and by chance brushes the lump in her pocket. She reaches in and pulls out the communicator slowly. 

It looks the same as always—battered and inconspicuous—but she stares at it for a moment, unwilling to think _what if no one answers_. New York is a major metropolis; the Reapers must have hit it, so, there’s no telling how bad things are there. 

She pushes away those thoughts and presses her thumb to the call button. 

The QEC never makes any sound in its connection, no crackle or hum. The sound is always clear, but this time there’s a brief pause before anything happens, and Shepard’s heart almost stops. 

Then Donatello’s voice comes through crystal clear. “Shepard? Is that you?” 

“Yes! Yeah, I’m... I’m fine.” Shit, her knees are shaking. She braces herself against the wall. “Are you—” 

“We’re fine. Little busy here, but we’re fine.” He sounds just slightly out of breath. Shepard strains her ears, and wonders if she can actually hear the sounds of battle in the background. 

“Okay. Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Good.” 

“Where are you?” 

“On the _Normandy_. Headed to Mars, and then the Citadel. I’m going to—” She closes her eyes against the faintness of this hope. “I’m going to try to bring back help.” 

“That would be fantastic. Can’t really talk now, I’m afraid.” 

Shepard closes her eyes. “Yeah. I get it. I’ll... call you later.” 

“... yeah. Talk later. Good.” His voice sounds clipped and hurried. If New York is anything like Vancouver was... 

“Be careful,” Shepard whispers, even though she’s sure the connection has gone out.


End file.
